


Blood Red Roses

by Bookishgirl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassins, Elemental Magic, Elves, Faeries - Freeform, Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Magic-Users, Mermaids, Original work - Freeform, Other, PTSD, Polytheism, Rebellion, Revolution, Shape Shifters, Spirits, Torture, War, mythical creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookishgirl/pseuds/Bookishgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so this is my first actual go at an original piece of writing. It probably won't be the best at the beginning, but I promise that the action will pick up and (hopefully) my writing will get better as I go along, and then when it's done I can come back and flesh out some parts that are weak writing. </p><p>Please let me know what you think!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first actual go at an original piece of writing. It probably won't be the best at the beginning, but I promise that the action will pick up and (hopefully) my writing will get better as I go along, and then when it's done I can come back and flesh out some parts that are weak writing. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

Pain.

Indescribable, unimaginable, excruciating pain.

It was all he had ever known. At least, that's what it felt like. He could barely remember a time that wasn't filled with anything but the torturous agony he experienced daily.

What had he ever even done to deserve this? He wasn't quite sure anymore. He was sure that he had known, at some point in time, what he was being punished so severely for, but now everything except for all-consuming misery had been long forgotten, including his own name.

Creaking hinges indicated the door opening, and the sound was quickly accompanied by the dim light of a torch. The dull orange glow hurt his eyes, and he closed them against the intrusion. He found himself waiting for the torture to start up again, and was confused when he heard a soft voice instead.

"I'm here to help." Whispered the voice. It sounded feminine, but he couldn't tell for sure. "My companions and I are going to get you out of this hell-hole." The light was moved, and the straps tying him down to the table were cut. The person whom the soft voice belonged helped him to sit up, though there was a bit of difficulty involved with the simple task. _Soft hands_ , he thought fleetingly, before two more sets of hands were suddenly on him as well, pulling him off the table. He groaned softly, the soft voice quickly and quietly shushing him.

"You have to stay quiet..." The soft voice murmured in his ear, supporting him on one side. The owner of the soft voice and the other people holding him up were trying to help him to walk, but he was so weak that he could barely move, and he might as well have been carried out, for all the effort he was able to put forth.

Their progress was slow, excruciatingly so, and there were several times when they had to stop to hide from guards, but eventually the odd group — at this point they looked like a strange mass of a creature than four individual people — reached the outside of the compound.

"We've got to hurry. That took longer than I had anticipated." The owner of the soft voice commanded, releasing him after making sure that he wouldn't topple over, then quickly mounted a horse that had been invisible only moments before, its coat blending in so well with the background. But the voice wasn't so soft anymore.

He thought, _Definitely a girl._ He hesitated a moment. _Right?_

"Yes, Princess." Responded the two others supporting him in unison. They received a withering glare from the person on the horse, whose face was still hidden by a hood.

 _Princess?_ He thought, _It_ is _a girl, then._ He was jolted out of his own thoughts when he was assisted to another horse, which he clumsily and awkwardly mounted, with the help of the two men supporting him, one of whom mounted swiftly behind him.

_To keep me from falling?_

The next thing he knew, he heard the hooded figure — the _Princess_ — call out a hushed, hurried order, and the small party was off. He jolted when the horse began to gallop through what he assumed was a forest. Surely he'd been there before, when he arrived in this place? He could no longer remember. He looked up, catching fleeting glimpses of the stars through the leaves and branches of the trees above, and for the first time in a long time, he was not afraid.


	2. Chapter Two

"Wake up." The soft voice — _the princess's voice_ — coaxed. "You need to eat something. Wake up."

His eyes slowly fluttered open, still bleary with exhaustion. The princess was kneeling beside him, leaning over him so their faces were only a few inches apart. Her eyes were startling, but more so intriguing than anything else. They were deep brown, almost black, but that wasn't the strange thing. Her pupils were surrounded with a thin ring of silver, making her eyes look as if an eclipse was happening in them.

“Good, you’re awake.” The princess murmured, offering him a gentle smile. She sat back on her heels, extending her hand towards him. He stared at it dumbly for a few heartbeats before he realized she was offering him a hand up. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, he accepted her hand, which she then used to help pull him to his feet as she stood, as well.

“Did you sleep well?” The princess asked as she walked beside him to a nearby campfire. He glanced over at her, though he looked away quickly when he met her eyes, his only response being a simple nod. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the princess smile and nod back to him slightly.

They reached the campfire, and the princess gestured for him to have a seat on one of the logs that surrounded it. He sat, watching as the chestnut-skinned girl walked over to a group of armed men – _soldiers?_ – before returning a heartbeat later, with what he assumed was food. She sat beside him, offering it to him. He slowly took it from her, inspecting it for a suspicious moment, before the growling of his stomach won out over any possible danger of poisoning. He took a bite out of the round, white loaf in his hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the taste of it for a brief moment. He could tell that the girl seated beside him was trying her hardest not to start laughing at him – at least, he _thought_ she was.

He ate quickly, starving after not having eaten in –

He paused, frowning slightly as he realized that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had really gotten to eat. Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have mattered, because he couldn’t very well change the past.

“Is there something wrong…?” The princess inquired softly, and he noted that she trailed off, though why, he didn’t know. In response, he simply shrugged, avoiding making eye contact with her for as long as he could.

Taking in the area around them, he tried to count how many other people there were, and then the number of horses, even the number of tents he saw, though each time he tried to count, he simply grew more and more frustrated. He couldn’t remember how to count. He couldn’t remember his numbers.

He couldn’t remember… _anything_.

“Do you have a name?” The princess’s voice jarred him out of his whirling, frustrated thoughts. He only shrugged, not trusting himself to be able to proper string words together to form an intelligible sentence. He wasn’t even sure he could remember what most words meant anymore, anyway.

The two small eclipses in the girl’s regal face narrowed. “You don’t know if you have one, or you don’t remember what it is?” Her soft, clear voice asked, needing clarification. He could only offer another shrug, eliciting a quiet sound that could’ve either indicated frustration or a moment of thought.

“Oliver.” The princess said, after a few long moments of silence, and the sound was so sudden that it almost startled him. He raised an eyebrow slightly, glancing briefly around them, just to make sure she hadn’t been trying to get the attention of a soldier, before making eye contact with the chestnut beauty before him, pointing to himself in a questioning way. A gentle smile and nod were his reward.

“Oliver…” He tried slowly, wanting to make sure he shaped the word correctly in his mouth. The gentle smile grew wider.

“Yes. Your name is Oliver now.” The soft voice was impossibly kind in that moment. “Your name is Oliver. My name is Salija.” Her tender eclipses locked with his curious holly leaves, and for a moment, neither of them breathed.

Oliver didn’t try to say her name just yet; something about the way the consonants in it sounded intimidated him, and besides that, it wasn’t as ordinary or simple as his new name was. In a good way. He liked the way it seemed to roll off the princess’s tongue so easily; it made her seem mysterious and powerful, and he wanted to learn her secrets.

“Well, Oliver, how would you like to have your own horse today?” Salija offered, voice as soft and smooth as silk. Oliver couldn’t get enough of it.

Still silent as could be, Oliver’s eyes widened slightly, and he was nodding eagerly before he thought of what could’ve been a more appropriate response.

Laughter like birdsong bubbled up out of the princess then, and it was the most beautiful thing Oliver could ever imagine hearing. It lasted only the briefest of moments, and as soon as it was over, he hungered for it again.

“Alright, then. You’ll ride beside me on the trail today, if that’s alright with you.” Another eager nod in response, followed by more elegant, expressive laughter from the princess.

The soldiers were told to ready another horse for Oliver, though unbeknownst to him, he was given an old, slow horse that never spooked or bucked or disobeyed, because Salija had unofficially made Oliver a part of her family by naming him the way she had. He had no last name – _yet_ – but it was understood now that anyone who looked at the copper-headed boy the wrong way, or harmed him – purposefully or not – would have to deal with the wrath of the princess – the best trained of any of the soldiers.

Oliver was not to be touched. He belonged to the princess now, and she defended what was hers with her life, if she truly had to; she wouldn’t hesitate to die for this boy she had only just met.

This could end well for neither of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love :) <3


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